


Punk Goes Pop

by wishiwaugh



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bisexual Lance (Voltron), But whatever, Fluff and Angst, Gay Keith (Voltron), Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Klance au, M/M, Mutual Pining, Nonbinary Pidge | Katie Holt, Slow Burn, because its my fav, because spoilers, broganes, i love my blue boy and gremlin child, platonic plance, punk goes pop au, some things wont be tagged, theyre technically cousins, trigger warnings will be included in relevant chapters, will tag as I go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-06-14 23:37:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15400107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wishiwaugh/pseuds/wishiwaugh
Summary: Klance punk goes pop au based on a tumblr promptEssentially...Keith makes a punk/alt rock cover of a Beyonce song and Lance is pissed. He remixes Black Parade as revenge and a rivalry ensues. Cue angst, fluff, and mutual pining.**on hold while working on other projects**





	1. Pt1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fic inspired by a prompt by mualance on tumblr ([Link](https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard/blog/mualance/160564312936) to post). I won't be adherring to it exactly, because that's no fun, but I am using the basic premise. I'm posting this primarily on my tumblr (angstyteeninthegayscene), but I figured I'd give AO3 a try. I hope you enjoy!

The **video uploaded** notification flashed across Keith’s screen, prompting him to lean back in his chair and sigh, rubbing his face in an attempt to will his drowsiness away. He glanced at the clock on his desk that flashed 2:37 at him in that abrasive red glow that he had a Pavlovian-conditioned hate for. He still had a paper he needed to finish for his 9:30 class, which he should have been working on instead of making his video, but he hit a wall with his writing, so he tried singing it out. Singing it out turned into inspiration for a new cover for his Youtube channel turned into him recording and editing the song for the past 6 hours turned into him sitting here at his desk at almost 3 am still with no motivation to finish his paper.

He stared at the Word document for a total of 7 seconds before saying fuck it and plopping face first onto his bed, not bothered to change into his pajamas. He’d just skip his gym workout in the morning and finish the paper then.

***

Lance was really cutting it close with his project. It was currently 3:30 in the morning and his writeup was due online by 8, which gave him 4 and a half hours to come up with 5 more examples of covers of popular songs done in a different genre style than the original and write about how they change the lyrical interpretation of the song compared to the original. The purpose of the assignment was to show the power that music producers have when mixing a song or some bullshit like that, Lance didn’t really pay attention when the assignment was given, and he was really regretting putting it off until the night before. He was usually fine procrastinating stuff like this, but he had grossly underestimated the effort this was taking.

He clicked back to the Youtube homepage to search for another song when a video in his recommended feed caught his eye, **Halo by Beyoncé (cover)** , he clicked on it immediately. The internet gods had taken pity on his weary soul and sent him a gift in the form of the angel, Beyoncé.

He let the ad play through, because support small creators, you impatient bastard, and leaned back to bask in the glory that is any Beyoncé song, because who can fuck up actual perfection? The song opened with a soft guitar intro with a synthy drumbeat followed by an equally soft male voice that sent shivers down Lance’s spine. The instruments and vocals increased in intensity through the third verse, which led into a loud guitar riff and the singer’s voice changing to a rough, almost growling timbre in the chorus.

Lance’s eyes widened as he listened to the atrocity before him. No, he didn’t, no he did fucking not. He opened the description box to read the words that confirmed his thought, _Halo by Beyoncé-Alternative/punk rock cover_. This son of a bitch did not turn the queen of modern music into a rock song, except he did, and Lance was furious. He was even more mad at the fact that he didn’t completely hate it. The singer’s voice was _really_ attractive, no, that’s not a good enough reason, he hated it, he definitely hated it.

“Stupid cover by a stupid youtuber, why does his voice have to be so hot, this is sacrilege, how fucking dare he,” Lance grumbled as he clicked away from the video to write his anger out in his writeup. It was a partly coherent mess of a rant about how rock music was created by Neanderthals and should never be used to defile the beauty of the likes of Beyoncé (his teacher had a good laugh at it grading the next day).

He finished the project and submitted it by 5, not bothering to properly edit it beforehand, because his brain was absolutely fried. He was still seething a bit when he finally crawled into bed. Just as he was drifting off to sleep, his eyes shot open and he sat up, reaching for one of his notebooks to write down his epiphany before he forgot it. He had the perfect plan to get revenge for the defilement of Beyoncé’s perfect name. He curled back into his comforter and fell asleep with an evil grin on his face, ready to ruin the day of whoever the hell Brogaynes was as soon as he woke up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just an FYI, I use real covers as references for this fic and I'll always link them in the notes.  
> [Here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aN9BPQW7Sh4&index=2&list=PL2TUYTT4Z3jVHbWp4-kQgqsPRSldx1dJh) is the reference for Keith's cover  
> This isn't a reference to how I imagine Keith sings, more for the composition and sound (kinda) of the song.
> 
> Hope you like it so far!  
> tumblr: angstyteeninthegayscene  
> instagram/twitter: wishiwaugh


	2. Pt2

Since all but one of his classes this semester was online, Lance had a pretty open schedule most of the time. Usually he’d play X-box, hang out with friends, or occasionally do his homework sooner than the night before it was due, emphasis on the occasionally. Today, though, he was a man with a mission, he had to fuck up Brogaynes’ day as much as possible and he knew just the way to do it and even get a start on a project for his music technology class like a month in advance, which had to be a record. After breakfast and a shower, he sat at his desk in front of his laptop and cracked his knuckles, ready to get his vengeance on.

***

Keith sat at his usual table in the dining hall with a heavy grunt that elongated into a whiny sigh that morphed into an exhausted growl. He slid his tray forward and pressed his forehead to the cool wood, wishing he could be asleep right now.

“Hey buddy. How’d the paper go?” Hunk asked in between bites of his sandwich.

Keith groaned in response.

“That bad, huh?” Keith sat up and started to pick at his lunch.

“Not really, I just had a hard time writing it, so I didn’t sleep much.” Hunk nodded, understanding his pain.

“I saw that you posted another video last night. Were you doing that instead of the paper?” Keith grinned sheepishly for a brief moment before going back to nibbling at his lunch.

“Maybe,” he responded, “I was stuck writing and got frustrated, so I thought it would help, but it ended up taking all night. I had to get up early before class to get it done.” Hunk sighed, having long ago given up on trying to correct Keith’s study habits. He learned quickly when they first became friends that Keith did things his way and didn’t respond well to changing that way, so Hunk let it be. As long as everything got done, it didn’t really matter how.

“As long as you finished it,” Hunk said, “I watched the video this morning after class, it was pretty good.” Keith smiled, nodding his thanks. Hunk was one of his only friends that knew about his pastime and it was a complete accident he even found out to begin with. Hunk had found one of Keith’s videos during a Youtube deep dive a few months ago and showed it to Keith when they were hanging out the next day. Apparently, Keith got super awkward and tried to change the subject and when Hunk jokingly asked if he made the video, he immediately clammed up and went red in the face. Hunk had a good laugh at Keith’s face and swore not to tell anyone at Keith’s pleading request, a promise he’s kept without question since then.

“Did you see the response video someone made?” Hunk added, “it was pretty funny.”

“Response video? Those haven’t been a thing since, like, old old-school Youtube,” Keith questioned, his brows scrunched thoughtfully as he wondered what anyone would have to respond to, his videos were just covers, nothing noteworthy or controversial about that.

“Just watch it when you get home. You’re either gonna love it or really hate it and I’m guessing it’s gonna be the latter,” Hunk interjected into his thought process. Keith nodded and they both dug into their food, so they could finish in time for their next classes.

***

Keith kicked his shoes off and dropped his backpack by the door and fell back onto his bed, sighing as he felt his spine decompress. He rolled to his side and fished his phone out of his pocket, plugging it into the charger by his bed. He pulled up the Youtube app, pausing to wonder how he was supposed to find the video Hunk was talking about, since Youtube no longer had the reply video option.

He clicked onto his new video to look at the stats, 235 views, 14 comments, 32 likes, 2 dislikes. He scrolled through the comments to see people’s feedback. There was a handful of “nice cover”s, a couple “good job”s, one “check out my cover”, a few spam comments, and one that all it had was a link to another video, with an ominous “if you dare” captioning it. Maybe this was the video Hunk was talking about, or it was another spam comment that would download a virus on his phone as soon as he clicked it and post all the nudes that he _totally_ had all over the web.

Too tired to care either way, Keith clicked and, sure enough, it redirected him to another video.

“Black Parade MCR Remix AKA Fuck You, Brogaynes,” Keith snorted, reading the title aloud. He wasn’t even that big a fan of MCR, his emo phase wasn’t _that_ bad. He must have pissed off some Beyoncé fan bad if they went out of their way to remix MCR in retaliation. He huffed a laugh again, before pressing play. Keith didn’t know this yet, but it would be one of the best worst decisions of his life.

The remix completely stripped the song, mixed around the order of the lyrics, and overlaid the vocals onto a dubstep track, changing the tone of the entire song to some mindless EDM club song. The greatest insult of all was the removal of the G note that could singlehandedly trigger the long-buried angsty teen memories of any millennial who had ever had a Myspace account.

Keith was properly enraged. Whether or not he was a diehard fan like most emo kids, the song was a classic, not to be tampered with, and this person destroyed it. He clicked into the description to see who was responsible for this monstrosity.

 **BlueTailor69** , the username read. Keith rolled his eyes at the immature use of numerics but kept reading, _I fucking dare you to touch a Rihanna song, you monster_.

Keith smirked. He never was one to turn down a dare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you like it so far!  
> [Reference](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LDbI6enBVho&t=0s&list=PL2TUYTT4Z3jVHbWp4-kQgqsPRSldx1dJh&index=4) for Lance's remix
> 
> tumblr: angstyteeninthegayscene  
> instagram/twitter: wishiwaugh


	3. Pt3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: brief mention of religiously based homophobia, no details; use of the word queer (not as a slur, but as an lgbt umbrella term)

Keith was too busy the rest of the week to record another song, but when Saturday rolled around, he went to work on it full force. He listened to a few of Rihanna’s songs to get a feel for her music and decide which song would be the best to cover. After 20 minutes of rooting around her Youtube channel, he settled on one, found the guitar tab sheet for it, and pulled out his notebook and guitar to figure out how he wanted to rework it for his cover.

***

 It was midafternoon when the notification lit up Lance’s phone screen. **New upload from Brogaynes** flashed up at him and he immediately clicked. He was prompted to unlock his phone, then the Youtube app opened and the video played. A familiar guitar riff played that took Lance a few ticks to place and was shortly joined by an almost soulful voice crooning the words of Stay by Rihanna.

Lance leaned back in his bed and closed his eyes, definitely _not_ enjoying the song. As nice as it sounded, he was confused. If this was supposed to be a response to the MCR video, why was it not rock music? Wasn’t that the whole point of this rivalry they had going?

No sooner had he thought it, after the first chorus the drumming picked up and the guitar strumming quickened, the reverb growing erratic, and the previously soft voice returned as a gravelly shout. Lance’s eyes shot open and he sat up abruptly, spooking his roommate, Pidge, who had just walked through the door.

“Jesus, Lance,” Pidge held a hand to their chest, “you scared the shit out of me. I thought you were asleep.” They sat down at their desk, digging something out of their bag.

“What’s got you all riled up?” They asked, looking up briefly from what they were doing to see Lance glaring a hole in the floor, looking like he should have steam coming out of his ears.

“I just got catfished by a song! That’s what,” Lance screeched before yanking out his earbuds and crossing his arms with a pouty huff.

“Is this about that Youtube thing again?” Pidge asked, slightly exasperated. They had to listen to Lance rant and rave for a solid 2 days after he listened to that Beyoncé video, which included sitting through a very graphic description of Brogaynes’ voice that, if he heard it, would have him blushing like a virgin. Pidge shook their head, trying to expel the vivid details of Lance’s description, something that should only be remembered for blackmailing purposes, which, of course, they would do, when the time was right. Wiping the smirk off their face from the thought, Pidge turned their attention back to Lance, who was talking faster than should be humanly possible and waving his arms around expressively in typical Lance fashion. Pidge tried to sit and listen but gave up quickly, choosing to interrupt the tirade in front of them.

“Lance, stop,” he froze mid-overly aggressive hand motion and looked at Pidge, “You have better things to do than whatever this is,” they said, waving a hand up and down Lance’s frame, “like, I don’t know, passing your classes? Not everyone is trying to create a rivalry with you, dude.”

“First of all, he responded to the MCR video, which makes this a rivalry, that he started by the way. And Cs get degrees, my little Pidgeon—”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Pidgeon,” Lance said again, enjoying the scowl they threw his way, “and I’ve got like a solid B average right now, so I’m fine.”

“Not if you want to work for Altea,” Pidge muttered. Lance scoffed.

“Second of all, rude. I doubt record labels check your GPA when hiring. Besides, all I gotta do Is drop one of my fire mixtapes on Coran’s desk and he’ll be begging to hire me,” Lance winked, clicked his tongue, and shot finger guns at Pidge for emphasis. They snorted.

“I can’t believe I had to actually hear the words _fire mixtape_ come from someone’s mouth in this year of our lesbian lord, Hayley Kiyoko, 20gayteen,” Pidge laughed, tracing a cross over their chest, kissing their hand, and pointing up to the ceiling in tribute to the gayest year of the century. Lance shook his head, scoffing softly at the display.

“If my extended family saw you do that, they’d string you up so fast for blasphemy.”

“Oh yeah, Cubans, Catholics,” Pidge nodded, connecting the dots, “That’s not the only thing they’d want to string me up for. I’ve got a whole rap sheet when it comes to religious sins.”

“Yeah,” Lance said with a pained smile, remembering the day he came out to his family as bi. To put it lightly, it did not go well. Pidge saw the shift in his face and, knowing where his thought process was likely going, walked over to his bed and gave him a light punch on the shoulder.

“Hey,” they said softly, “fuck ‘em. They’re missing out on an awesome couple of queers. Their loss, dude.” Lance smiled at Pidge’s classically crass way of trying to cheer him up, “Let’s get ice cream before dinner, cuz we’re adults and we do whatever and whoever the fuck we want!” His smile turned into a full-blown laugh that washed away the bad memories he was dwelling in.

“Sure thing, Pidge.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For clarification, in this story, Altea and Galra Empire are record labels, like Sony or Atlanta Records. Voltron is a subsidiary label of Altea Records, like Columbia Records is to Sony. This will come up more later on, but I just want to make sure everyone knows what's going on.
> 
> [Reference](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Aufxr0Y0-g&index=1&list=PL2TUYTT4Z3jVHbWp4-kQgqsPRSldx1dJh) for Keith's cover  
> The guy in the vest in this video is kinda how I imagine Keith's voice. You can imagine whatever you want to, that's just how I do.
> 
> Hope you like it so far!  
> tumblr: angstyteeninthegayscene  
> instagram/twitter: wishiwaugh


	4. Pt4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The angst is real this chapter. You've been warned.  
> Also, I forgot to mention last chapter that Coran is the CEO of Altea Records, which is why Lance would drop a mixtape on his desk in particular.

The ice cream had solidly ruined their dinner, which probably disappointed every grandmother in a 5-mile radius of the dining hall. But it was worth it. Pidge and Lance sat over their ice cream and talked for a good 3 hours about life, the universe, and everything, which helped dispel a lot of tension that had been building up as finals week got closer. Because of this, it was well past 8 o’clock when they finally got around to getting real food. They were still chatting back and forth as they carried their trays out to find a seat and almost missed Hunk waving them down. He caught Pidge’s eye just as they were setting their food down at a different table, and they and Lance redirected to his table.

“Hey, Hunk, my man!” Lance exclaimed, laying on the obnoxious, “How ya been, my dude? You beautiful Samoan man, you.” He clapped the bigger man on the back and sat down, smirking as Pidge shook their head in a mix of disbelief and amusement.

“Hello to you, too, Lance,” Hunk laughed, “Hey Pidge,” he added, nodding to them across the table. “I feel like we haven’t hung out in forever. What’s been going on with you guys?”

“I’m going to answer that, because if we let Lance talk, he’ll never shut up,” Lance let out an indignant noise at the comment. Pidge ignored him and continued, “Things are good. Lance is a terrible roommate—”

“Rude!” Lance crossed his arms in a pout.

“I’m joking, kind of,” Lance seemed to accept that and went back to eating, “Iverson’s classes are a bitch, as should be expected. And finals are gonna suck,” Pidge finished with an exaggerated, heaving breath, “What about you?”

“Things are good. Culinary school is a lot more chill than music tech, it seems,” Lance and Pidge both nodded at that observation. “We finally started actually cooking things, which is nice.” Lance’s eyes widened in disbelief.

“Finals like a month away and you’re only now cooking things?!”

“Yeah,” Hunk sighed, “We had to learn cooking theory first.”

“Cooking theory? You put stuff in a pan and it cooks. How hard is that?” Hunk laughed at Lance’s oversimplication.

“It’s the same thing as music theory,” Pidge interjected, “You have to know what goes together and how and why.”

“Pretty much,” Hunk said, “We’re expected to be able to create dishes from scratch, no recipe, so it helps to know how certain foods fit together before you just put stuff in a pan.” Lance nodded in understanding.

“Huh, I never thought of it like that. Makes sense, I guess.”

“And that’s why Hunk’s the chef and you’re the DJ with a college degree,” Pidge sniped.

“Music production is not DJing, you gremlin,” Lance grumbled, “You should know, Mx. glorified stagehand.” Pidge held a hand to their heart in feign hurt.

“How dare you insult the sacred craft of sound engineering? Without me, the music you produce would sound like shit.”

“Not true! It’s your fault if my stuff _does_ sound like shit. They call me the Tailor, because of how I thread those sick beats together and make a bomb-ass track. Not my fault if you can’t get the sound balance right.”

“No one calls you the Tailor, Lance,” Pidge deadpanned. As Lance sputtered, looking for a comeback, Hunk tuned their bickering out and went back to his dinner.

He saw a flash of red and black in the corner of his eye and looked up to see Keith walking to an empty table.

“Hey Keith! Over here,” Hunk shouted, catching Keith’s attention and halting Lance and Pidge’s conversation. The raven-haired boy froze at the sight of 2 strangers sitting next to Hunk, but he conceded at Hunk’s insistent gestures.

He walked over to the table, cautiously eyeing the lanky, dark skinned boy and the small ginger he recognized immediately.

“Hi Hunk,” Keith said, taking a seat between Hunk and Pidge and away from Lance, who was staring at him intently. “Long time, no see, Pidge,” he smiled at them.

“Same goes for you, stranger. I didn’t know you went to school here.”

“I transferred in this semester after Shiro’s encouraging wore me down.”

“Sounds like Shiro,” they quipped, “What are you in for?”

“Performing arts,” Keith answered between bites, still unnerved by the gaze of the boy across from him.

“You’re singing again?” Pidge asked excitedly, “Dude, that’s awesome!”

“I am, yeah, Shiro got me back into it.”

“Dad voice?” Pidge questioned knowingly. Keith smirked and nodded. A veil of silence fell over the group for no more than a few ticks before Lance gasped a bit too dramatically.

“Wait, Mullet?” Keith raised an eyebrow at the exclamation. Lance took that as a cue to continue.

“You went to Garrison Middle School, right?”

“Yeah?” Keith answered hesitantly.

“Dude! I knew I recognized you. It’s me, Lance.”

“Ok?”

“We were in the same class. You know, Lance and Keith, best buds, totally inseparable, at least we were before you left 8th grade,” Lance rambled, excited to reconnect with an old friend. That excitement was short-lived.

“Uh, sorry. I don’t recognize you, don’t remember much from middle school,” Keith said, almost sheepishly, not wanting to go into details.

“What do you mean, you don’t remember? We were best friends, dude,” Lance clamored. A panicked look made its way to Keith’s face that Hunk and Pidge both picked up on.

“Ease up, Lance.”

“Lance, drop it.” They said in unison, effectively shutting him up. Lance huffed.

“What do you guys know that I don’t?”

“Nothing, Lance. Just let it go,” Pidge said, an uncommonly serious undertone to their voice.

“Fine, whatever, sorry,” Lance mumbled, unsuccessfully trying to not look hurt. He hunched over his food, picking at it aimlessly.

“Lance, I’m sorry—” Keith tried to apologize, but Lance butted in rather quickly.

“It’s fine, dude, whatever. I just thought we were closer than that,” he said dejectedly, still twirling his fork around his plate.

“Lance,” Hunk said sharply, both scolding and sympathetic.

“I’ve got shit to do. See you guys later,” Lance stood abruptly, his chair squealing as it slid across the floor. He grabbed his tray, slung his bag over his shoulder, and left without another word, his body language slouched and wounded.

The three remaining watched him leave, not knowing how to address the situation. Pidge broke the silence.

“You gotta tell him, dude.”

“I don’t have to tell him anything. I don’t even remember him,” Keith countered defensively.

“He remembers you though,” Hunk continued Pidge’s thought, “So, you need to tell him why you don’t or he’s gonna think it’s somehow his fault.”

Keith looked at the both of them, wide-eyed and panic growing in his chest. He knew they were right, but that didn’t make the situation any easier.

“How am I supposed to do that, though? He seemed pretty pissed, it’s not like he’ll willingly talk to me again.”

“I’ll talk to him,” Pidge offered, “I can’t guarantee he’ll listen, but I can try.” Keith nodded his thanks.

“The dining hall is closing soon, so we should all probably clear out,” Hunk said, eyeing the clock and the cleaning crew that was starting to make its rounds. They gathered their things and dropped off their trays.

Pidge departed with a good night, leaving Hunk and Keith to walk to their respective residences.

“Bet you weren’t planning on that for dinner,” Hunk let out a strained laugh as he attempted to cut the tension. Keith joined with a breathy chuckle.

“No. No, I was not.”

“It’s not your fault, Keith. It’s neither of your faults,” Hunk added supportively. “Life is just a bitch sometimes and you guys got the heat for it.”

“You’re telling me,” Keith huffed. Life was more than a bitch to him, Life beat the shit out of him and kicked him to the curve, but Hunk was right. _It wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t his fault._ He chanted it in his head, as if doing so would convince his brain. He felt Hunk’s hand on his shoulder and looked up to see the sympathetic smile on his face. Keith knew he meant well, but he still hated feeling pitied for any reason.

“This is me,” Hunk gestured at the brick building next to them, “Lunch tomorrow, ok? And try not to get to worked up over this whole thing. We’ll figure it out.”

“Sounds good,” Keith nodded halfheartedly, “See ya.” He gave Hunk a small wave before turning to go home.

_It’s not my fault._

_It’s not my fault._

_It’s not my fault._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't planning for this to get so dramatic so soon, but I finally figured out the plotline for this story and this is where it took me.  
> Take it easy on Keith, there's a good reason for him not remembering Lance, you'll see. *hides because I know people hate cliffhangers and I just dropped a real big one that probably won't get resolved for a while* I'M SORRY, I HOPE YOU CAN FORGIVE ME WHEN YOU FIND OUT WHY!! plz enjoy the good plance bants as a form of distraction until then (platonic plance is one of my favorite things to write if you haven't yet noticed heehee).
> 
> Hope you like it so far!  
> tumblr: angstyteeninthegayscene  
> twitter/instagram: wishiwaugh


	5. Pt5

When Pidge got back to their room, Lance was curled up under his comforter, facing the wall and watching something on his phone. They sighed, this is what he did when he was upset about something and didn’t want to talk about it, but he was going to have to get over himself this time, because he wasn’t the only one suffering.

“Lance,” no answer. They moved to stand right next to the bed and tried again, a little louder.

“Lance.” He heard them that time and rolled over to acknowledge their existence briefly before turning back to his previous position.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he mumbled. Pidge sighed, wishing they could leave him alone to wallow, but this wasn’t just about him, and they owed it to Keith to get him to understand that.

“You don’t get to make that decision, Lance. Keith has his reasons and you need to give him the chance to explain.”

“What is there to explain? He forgot about me, I obviously wasn’t as important to him as he was to me,” Lance said pointedly, adjusting the blanket around him. Pidge pursed their lips, pushing a sharp breath from their nose, and ripped the blanket away. Lance shot up, indignant and shouting Spanish expletives at Pidge as they threw the comforter to the ground.

“The fuck’s your problem, Pidge?” Lance glared at them, finding an uncharacteristically still face and cold stare.

“Pull your head out of your ass and get the hell over yourself, dude. This isn’t just about you. Keith’s hurting too from your little show earlier,” Pidge spoke with a low, hard voice, their tone softening when they saw Lance’s wide-eyed, mournful gaze.

“Just,” Pidge sighed, pinching the bridge of their nose briefly, “take a beat and then go talk to him. I’m not kidding when I say there’s more to it. He didn’t want to forget you, though he might prefer that if he gets to know you,” Pidge attempted to lighten the mood, judging from the look on Lance’s face, it didn’t work, “Sorry, too soon. Promise me you’ll hear him out, ok?”

Lance nodded softly, not sure why he was agreeing, if he was scared to see what Pidge would do if he didn’t, or because of the sinking feeling in his gut at the idea that he was hurting Keith, whether he remembered him or not.

“Thank you,” Pidge said, reaching down to retrieve the discarded blanket and return it to Lance.

He accepted it, murmuring a good night, and resumed his position from before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this is so short, I wanted to post a full length chapter and something special for Lance's birthday, but I was in the ICU with my grama last night and she passed away earlier today, so I'm not in a creative or celebratory mood. This is all I had written before yesterday, and I wanted to post something, so this is what you get. Sorry again and I hope you all enjoyed Lance's bday.  
> I'm not sure when I will update again, but I usually post about that on my tumblr (I can use twitter if people prefer that) if you want to know what's going on outside of my updates here.
> 
> tumblr: angstyteeninthegayscene  
> twitter/ig: wishiwaugh


	6. Pt6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I'm back! Here's a nice long boi for y'all, and be warned, it gets angsty (when does it not, tbh lol).

Lance spent the next day totally not moping. Pidge gave up trying to get him to do something and left him to his own devices, while they hung out with Hunk and tried to reassure Keith that Lance didn’t hate him, he was just processing things in his typical Lance way.

Mindlessly scrolling through his phone, Lance opened the Youtube app with the intent to watch shitty vine compilations to return some semblance of joy to his soul. When the screen loaded, a video at the top of his recommended feed caught his eye, Brogaynes’ Rihanna cover. He felt a surge of energy, remembering how fired up about the video he got yesterday. He couldn’t just leave this rivalry hanging.

He dragged himself out of bed at the glorious hour of 2:43 pm, got dressed, and munched on a granola bar as he sat at his desk and powered up his laptop. He opened his editing software and got to work.

***

“Hey, look at that!” Pidge exclaimed as they walked into the room, “It’s alive!” Their voice warbled like Dr. Frankenstein when he first awoke his monster. Headphones over his ears, Lance didn’t notice his roommate’s return and jumped a little when he saw them move into his peripheral. He pushed the headphones off one ear and turned to acknowledge them.

“Hey, Pidge.” He smiled at them briefly before going back to his work. They moved to stand behind them and flopped their weight over Lance’s shoulders, severely hindering his ability to do anything, but refusing to move when he tried to shrug them off.

“Whatcha working on?” They asked, their voice directly in Lance’s ear from their perch on his back. He swatted at them, his efforts to get them to move fruitless.

“Remix,” Lance answered concisely as he tried to focus, despite Pidge’s weight pushing on him.

“For the Youtube thing?” The ginger guessed correctly. They squinted at the screen, taking a closer look. “Evanescence, huh? You’re playing dirty there, Aoki.” Lance swung himself around to face them, doing so fast enough to displace them, causing them to stumble back. He snickered at their indignant _hey_.

“Serves you right, gremlin.” A shit-eating grin spread across Pidge’s face at the name-calling. “And Aoki, really? I thought we were friends,” Lance said, feinting a pout. Pidge’s grin only grew wider.

“I call it like I see it,” they said with a shrug.

“Rude! You and I both know I’m better than him,” Lance replied.

“I thought you weren’t a DJ,” Pidge said smugly, knowing they would hit a nerve with that one.

“I’m not!” Lance huffed and turned back to his computer. “Be gone, demon. I want to finish this.” Pidge complied, sitting on their bed and pulling out their laptop.

Several minutes of silence and soft key clicking passed, broken by a loud groan from Lance as he leaned back, pushed his headphones down around his neck, and rubbed his eyes. Pidge looked up as his hands slid down his face, stretching it out like a scream mask, and he groaned again.

“You good?” They asked.

“Yeah, I’ve just been working on this for--,” Lance eyes widened as he looked at the clock, “Jesus, I’ve been working on this for, like, 6 and a half hours.”

“Dude,” Pidge replied, “Have you moved from there?” Lance shook his head. “Have you eaten?” Lance nodded. “What?” They questioned.

“A granola bar,” he answered almost sheepishly.

“All you’ve eaten is a granola bar all day?” They said in disbelief, “It’s past 9 o’clock, Lance. That’s not healthy, man.” They resisted the urge to strangle him, electing instead to drag the lanky boy to his feet and point aggressively at his shoes and jacket. “We’ve got like 45 minutes ‘til the dining hall closes. You’re eating.” Lance hung his head at the reprimand but did as he was told.

Lance realized how hungry he actually was once they walked into the cafeteria and he could smell the food. He piled his tray with two meals worth of food, a comically large amount compared to Pidge’s bowl of fruit and ice cream bar they grabbed to snack on since they ate a few hours previous.

They barely sat down before Lance started shoveling food into his mouth.

“Hungry, huh?” Pidge quipped, laughing as Lance flipped them off between bites. They sat silently, watching him eat, refraining from making any more comments until he finished, pushing his tray to the side.

“You can’t do that, Lance.”

“What.”

“Not eat, dumbass,” Pidge said sternly.

“I know. Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize. You need to take care of yourself.” Pidge softened their voice, not wanting to come off as angry, but concerned, and continued, “I know you’re upset about yesterday, but that doesn’t mean you just get to shut down.”

“Yes, mom,” Lance retorted.

“Lance, I’m serious,” Pidge responded, a little too harshly.

“I got it. Just lay off,” Lance snapped coldly. He reached for his tray and tried to stand, but Pidge extended their leg and pulled the chair back in, forcing him to stay seated.

“No, you’re not running away from this,” Pidge’s voice was sharp, uncharacteristically so. “I get it, Keith doesn’t remember you, you’re upset, but you need to pull your head out of your ass.”

“It’s not that simple,” Lance mumbled.

“What’s not that simple? You were friends in middle school, you haven’t seen each other in, what, 7, 8, years? People forget about each other under normal circumstances all the time after that long. Keith has his reasons, you just need to listen to him.”

“We weren’t _just friends_ , Pidge,” Lance cut in, a fire in his eyes, “He was everything to me. I’ve wondered every day where he went, why he left me, and I finally found him, and he forgot me. How could I not be upset?” Lance rested his head in his hands to cover the tears slowly making their way down his face, not wanting to draw attention to himself, despite there only being a few other people in the room, all seated far away. Pidge let out a heavy sigh, the result of an internal battle over how to handle this.

“He was in a car accident.” Lance’s head shot up, eyes wide.

“What?”

“It killed both of his parents and the doctors thought he had short term memory loss caused by a traumatic brain injury, but the memories never came back and it was more severe than they thought, he could remember next to nothing from the past 3 or 4 years, which includes the time he knew you.”

“He, oh my god,” Lance whispered, a hand over his mouth as the tears flowed heavier. Pidge gave him a moment before continuing.

“He went to live with his aunt and uncle and had to have private tutoring to catch him up to where he was supposed to be in school. That’s how I met him. My brother, Matt, was friends with his cousin, Shiro, so I came over a lot to help him with school stuff.

“He didn’t want to forget you, Lance. He just had a shitty hand dealt to him and you were indirectly caught in the crossfire.”

“Jesus,” Lance breathed, “Fuck, I was such a dick.”

“Yeah, you kinda were,” Pidge laughed softly, “I shouldn’t have even told you this, but you never would have talked to him otherwise.”

“I, um, thanks for telling me, Pidge,” Lance stuttered out, his hands falling to the table with a dull thud. Pidge reached out and squeezed one reassuringly.

“Just talk to him, Lance. You guys obviously had something before, there’s no reason you can’t start over.”

“Ok, yeah. Yeah, I will,” Lance nodded, letting out a shuddered breath as his body calmed down. Pidge smiled and smacked his arm.

“Alright, enough of this sad shit. It’s a school night,” they said, standing and grabbing their dirty dishes. Lance mirrored the action, following them to the dish drop and then their room, but stayed quiet, still trying to process the information that had just been dumped on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the sweet comments last chapter. I'm still not doing great, but I finally felt up to finishing this chapter after having to rewrite it, cuz it was shit. You now have some answers to what went down in Pt4, but there's more to it, so don't get too comfy lol. I wasn't planning on revealing anything til a while later, but this fit the flow of the story better, and when do stories ever go to plan anyways?  
> Hopefully there won't be quite so long of a gap between updates again, but I've been very up and down, so we'll see. I appreciate you guys sticking with me through all this.
> 
> Hope you like it so far!  
> tumblr: angstyteeninthegayscene  
> instagram/twitter: wishiwaugh


	7. Pt7

Pt 7

Keith had an anxious knot in his chest that hadn’t left since dinner the night before. He hadn’t had to deal with anything relating to his accident for years, so this whole situation was rehashing a lot of things he didn’t want to remember, which was ironic because there were so many things he wished he _could_ remember.

Amnesia was funny like that. He remembered the accident vividly, but he could barely recall his mom’s voice, or his dad’s laugh, or the three birthdays previous. And he couldn’t remember Lance. He thought back to the hurt expression on the Cuban boy’s face when he didn’t recognize him, and the knot coiled itself tighter.

He had barely slept that night, his mind racing as it pushed and prodded at the black void in his brain where his memories should have been, trying to remember _something_. Like always, he only got flashes of color and emotion, completely disconnected from anything meaningful. It frustrated him to the point of tears even now, nearly a full day later.

Looking at the clock at his desk, he saw that it was well past midnight and he was nowhere near falling asleep. He pulled out his phone and typed a quick email to his professors that he wasn’t coming to class and texted Hunk the same. Turning to the wall, he put in his earbuds and pulled up a podcast to help him at least try and get some sleep.

***

Keith woke up around 11 with a migraine and a text back from Hunk.

 _Ok, take care of yourself, man. I saw a new video from that guy on Youtube if you need a laugh._ Keith smiled, glad he had a friend like Hunk, but his brows furrowed in confusion about what guy he was talking about.

 **What guy?** Hunk responded almost immediately.

_MCR remix guy. Guess he didn’t like the Rihanna video either lol_

**Oh ok thx I guess**

_Np, looks like you’ve got yourself a full-fledged internet rival now tho haha  
You wanna get lunch since you’re up. I’m eating in like an hour b4 my next class_

**Yeah sure. I’m gonna take a shower and I’ll head over**

_K cya_

45 minutes and a shower later, Keith walked over to the dining hall. Because he lived off campus, it was a solid 10-minute walk to the school. He usually biked or caught a ride with Shiro, but he didn’t bother today, since he was probably just going to eat and go back home. He took his time walking over, music blasting in his ears and mind wandering 10 different places, and arrived right as Hunk got there.

“Hey, Keith.” Keith pulled his earbuds out, flashing a brief smile to the bigger man in acknowledgment, and followed him inside.

They made their way through the cafeteria quickly and sat at a table in a quiet corner of the seating area.

“How you feeling?” Hunk asked as he took his first bite.

“Fine, I guess. I just couldn’t sleep last night and woke up with a migraine,” Keith answered, pushing his food around his plate, trying to decide if he was even that hungry.

“I’m sorry, dude. You can take my notes from Iverson’s class home with you if you want, just bring them to class tomorrow when you’re done.”

“Yeah, ok, thanks,” Keith said quietly. He felt the table buzz and looked up at Hunk to see him sitting up and looking around the room, his phone in hand.

“You looking for someone?” He questioned.

“Yeah, Pidge said they’re eating too and wanted to know where we are,” Hunk answered, still looking around, “There they are,” he said, waving them down. They pulled out the chair next to Hunk and plopped down with a grunt.

“Hello, my brethren. How shitty are your Mondays so far?” Hunk shrugged, letting out a noncommittal sound and Keith groaned as he rested his head in the crook of his arm in an attempt to block out the fluorescent lights that were starting to bug him.

“I’m gonna have to agree with Keith on that one,” Pidge said. They swapped a few bits of small talk with Hunk as Keith stayed hunched over the table, trying to will his headache away.

“Oh, Keith?” Pidge said. He lifted his head, resting his chin on his arm to look at them.

“Hmm.”

“I know it wasn’t really my place, but he never would have talked to you otherwise. I told Lance about your accident last night, no details, that’s for you to share if you choose, but I gave him the basics of why you didn’t remember him. He feels like shit for how he acted Saturday night and said he would talk to you.”

“Ok,” Keith answered. He wasn’t upset that Pidge told Lance, it’s not like his accident was a secret, he just didn’t like talking about it in general.

“I figured I’d give you a heads-up, so you weren’t blindsided if he came up to you.”

“Thanks Pidge,” Keith smiled at them as genuinely as he could muster.

The trio fell into mindless conversation after that, how fucked they were for finals, what drama had gone down recently with other mutual friends, basic college student conversation.

Eventually, Hunk and Pidge had to go to their respective classes, leaving Keith alone in the busy dining hall with his half-eaten plate of food. He quickly ate a decent amount of what was left and shot a text to Shiro.

 **Hey, can I catch a ride home with you?** Shiro responded a few minutes later.

_Yeah. You’re on campus?_

**Got lunch with Hunk and Pidge**

_Ok. Head over to my office. Need to finish a few things then we can go._

**Omw**

Keith discarded his tray and made his way to the engineering building and up the two flights of stairs to the teachers’ suite. He walked down the hall to Shiro’s office, knocking gently on the cracked-open door.

“Come in,” Shiro’s voice boomed. Keith pushed open the door and sat down at the chair in front of Shiro’s desk, leaning over it with his head in his arms.

“Hey, kiddo,” Shiro greeted, chuckling at Keith’s grunt in response, “I’ve got about 20 more minutes of work and we can go.” Keith formed one of his hands into a thumbs up and nestled his head further into his arms as he absentmindedly listened to the clicking of Shiro’s keyboard.

He sat up with a start when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He blinked hard, both at the sudden exposure to light and confusion.

“You dozed off,” Shiro explained. Keith hummed in response, rubbing the drowsiness from his eyes. “We can go now, unless you want to drool on my desk some more.” Keith paused, looking at his cousin with a deadpan expression.

“I don’t drool.”

“Yeah, you don’t snore either,” Shiro laughed, grabbing his jacket off its hook. Keith stood and followed him out.

“I don’t snore.”

“Mmhm,” the taller man quipped. He reached out to ruffle Keith’s hair, grabbing him in a headlock when he tried to duck away. He gave him a quick noogie and released him, wanting to retain some semblance of professionalism at his workplace. He smirked at the younger boy’s huff of annoyance as he ran his hand through his hair in an attempt to fix it.

They were quiet the rest of the way to Shiro’s car, the silence broken as the radio started up with the car. Keith looked down at his feet for the entirety of the ride, his hands clenched in his lap. Shiro noticed the tension and so, when they pulled into the driveway, he didn’t get out of the car. He turned to the passenger seat and waited for Keith to snap back to reality and look at him.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“What?” Keith furrowed his brows in confusion. Shiro gestured at his rigid posture in response.

“Something’s up.”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not,” Shiro stated matter-of-factly. He eyed the younger boy intently, not standing down until he got an answer. Keith recognized the expression and sighed, resigning his defensiveness.

“Do you remember any of my friends from middle school?” Keith asked, looking at his feet again, his hands fiddling in his lap.

“If I heard the name, maybe,” Shiro responded, not sure where this was going.

“Lance?” His eyes lit up in recognition.

“Yeah, you guys were really close.”

“We met a few days ago.” Shiro’s eyes widened, knowing the significance of that in Keith’s situation.

“He didn’t know, did he?”

“Yeah, he got really upset that I didn’t recognize him.” Keith swallowed hard, trying to fight down the lump in his throat.

“Are you ok?” Shiro asked gently, his eyes scanning Keith’s face, trying to get a read on what he was feeling.

“Not really,” the younger boy answered, his voice a wavering squeak as the lump claimed more territory.

“Hey, hey, it’s not your fault,” Shiro whispered comfortingly, pulling Keith into a hug that was immensely uncomfortable due to their seating arrangement. Regardless, Keith wrapped his arms around his cousin, burying his face in his shirt and squeezing hard. They stayed like that for a minute, before Keith pulled away, sniffling and wiping his nose on a sleeve.

“It’s just so frustrating. I should remember. Why can’t I remember?” Keith sobbed. Shiro rubbed his back in slow, soothing circles.

“Did you explain it to him?” Keith shook his head.

“Pidge is his roommate, so they told him the jist of it.”

“That’s a lucky coincidence.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Keith scoffed.

“Do you want to schedule an appointment with Dr. Johnson?”

“No, she’ll just tell me more of what she already has. I just needed to take a day.”

“In that case, I have papers to grade, but I’ll put those off if you’d rather get your ass handed to you in Mario Kart?” Shiro offered, smirking as Keith’s face lit up at the challenge.

“Dude, you suck at Mario Kart.”

“Is that so? Those sound like fighting words there, kid.” Shiro grinned, pulling Keith into a head lock again. “Think you can put your money where your mouth is? Loser pays for pizza.” Keith pulled himself out of his cousin’s grip.

“You’re so on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The author being sad about s7 and writing their fan fiction as a coping mechanism? It's more likely than you think.  
> Idk how I feel about this chapter, I'm not super confident in how I wrote Keith and Shiro as far as how their characters would act in this situation. I really don't want to write the super stereotypical weak, whiny Keith that gets written in fan fiction a lot, because that's not who he is, but also he's in a super shitty situation and idk how else he would react. Lmk what you think, I guess. I feel like once we get past backstory, I'll be able to write Keith more realistically, I hope.  
> And we'll get back to music and rivalry soon, I promise. I've just been sad, so I'm writing sad shit.
> 
> Hope you like it so far!  
> tumblr: angstyteeninthegayscene  
> instagram/twitter: wishiwaugh


	8. Pt8

The rest of the day was spent playing video games and eating junk food, allowing Shiro to let loose and Keith to feel a bit of normalcy after his stressful weekend. It neared 9 when Shiro called it quits, so he could grade a few papers before bed. Keith powered down the X-box and retreated to his room to go to bed early, so he could maybe get a decent amount of sleep.

PJ-clad and ready for bed, Keith crawled under the covers and unlocked his phone to pull up a podcast to listen to. He remembered Hunk telling him about the new video from his “internet rival” and switched from his podcast app to Youtube to check it out quickly. He looked through the comments of his Rihanna video and sure enough there it was.

 **BlueTailor69:** I warned you, Brogaynes <www.youtube.com/fakelink>

He snorted and clicked. The page redirected to the video and Keith shook his head when he saw the title, smiling at its ridiculousness, _Bring Me To Life Evanescence Remix- also known as Brogaynes is a terrible person and I hate him._

The song opened with an instrumental bit, heavy with anticipation, the beat gradually growing through the first verse. After the first line of the chorus, it dropped hard into a stretch of classic dubstep. The song repeated that pattern, slow build with samples of the original song and heavy drop, one more time before ending on a synthetic trill.

If Keith didn’t have a predisposed hatred of all things dubstep, he would have liked the song. He clicked into the description expecting another snide comment like last time, but it was empty. He scrolled through the comments and saw nothing there either. He thought that was a bit odd and out of character, but dismissed it because they’d never interacted, so there was no reason for him to know anything about this person’s character or be concerned.

He switched back to his podcast app, pulling one up, and closed his eyes. Before he knew it, the hosts said their outro an hour later and Keith was still very awake. He groaned and rolled over to grab his phone. He debated playing another one, but he didn’t feel anywhere near falling asleep, so he opened Twitter with the hope that some mindless scrolling would do the trick.

The racing in his mind gradually slowed as he went through his feed. He passed a list of recommended users, quickly scrolling back up for a double take. _No way_ , he thought, his mind fully alert again, and clicked on the user profile. Sure enough, there it was. BlueTailor69 had a twitter and it was exactly what could be expected. The profile picture was a black background with **Fuck You, Brogaynes** in white Comic Sans and the description read, _I exist solely to spite Brogaynes. Besides, he started it._

Keith couldn’t fight the disbelieving laugh that bubbled up as he scrolled through his tweets.  They were pretty much all replies to Keith’s tweets, consisting mostly of various snips and jabs at the songs he covered. He looked again at the most recent tweet, linking to his Evanescence cover, his brows furrowing as he read the caption. _Had a shitty weekend so cut me some slack. I can still hate you in any headspace though @BrogaynesMusic ;)_ That must have been why there was no sarcastic commentary on the video.

Before thinking it through, Keith hit the message button and typed out a quick _You ok?_ Once it sent, he realized that that was probably a bad idea. This guy was likely some troll who just enjoyed fucking with people because he had nothing better to do with his life and wasn’t worth Keith’s time to be worried about. Before he could fully second-guess his decision, his phone pinged.

_BlueTailor69: ???_

Keith stared at the message bubble, just as confused as to why he was messaging this guy as he was.

**BrogaynesMusic: You said you had a shitty weekend. Just asking if you were ok**

_You stalking me now brogaynes? Was ruining Beyoncé not enough for you?_

**No, you popped up in recommended and I was just trying to be nice. Sorry for caring.** Keith huffed indignantly as he typed the message and sent it.

_Dude im kidding lol_

**…  
oh**

_Sarcasm doesn’t translate well over messaging lol knew I should have used an emoji_  
_To answer your question, not really?_  
_I found out some stuff that upset me and then I was a dick about it_  
_Still need to apologize for that_

**I had a bad weekend too if that makes you feel better**

_You want me to revel in your sadness to cure mine?_

**No? just trying to sympathize**

_ik I was kidding again  
I really gotta use emojis with u dude_

**leave me alone**

_you messaged me broski_

**…fair  
sorry I shouldn’t have bugged you**

_Nah youre good man  
cant sleep anyway_

**same**

_we can talk to each other til we fall asleep, how romantic!!_  
_Rivals to lovers! They can make a movie about us!_  
_I totally ship it_

**why are you like this**

_I didn’t get enough attention as a child_  
_im sleep depraved and lucid_  
_I hate myself and veil my insecurities with humor_  
_take your pick_

**-_-**

_:D_

**(** **－** **‸** **ლ** **)**

_Oooooooo fancy  
how u do that??_

**skill, you scrub**

_rude_

**¯\\_(** **ツ)_/¯**

_That’s it ive decided  
your emoji game is too fly for me not to be in love w/ you_

**k?**

_I just declared my love and all you have to say is k? K?_

**k?**

_you bastard  
to think I ever loved you_

**are you always this dramatic**

_I was an attention-starved middle child. I learned fast_

**Makes sense**  
**going to school for acting then?**  
**wait, you’re not some creepy 56 year old who preys on people on the internet right??**

_Lol im a junior in college, music production major actually  
and I bet you really insulted some lonely 56 year old who scours the internet for companionship to fill his empty soul_

**Just checking**

_wbu? You’re not some 56 year old who lures people in with his deceptively youthful voice are you?_

**Nope, college junior too**

_See! That can’t be a coincidence, we were meant to be together!_

**Youre weird**

_Thx I try  
what are you in for?_

**Performing arts**

_Imma take a stab and say singing?_

**Yep**

_Nice  
you could go far with that_

**I thought you hated my music**

_Subject matter, not quality  
you have a really good voice_

**Thx**

_Youre supposed to say, you too_

**Fishing much?**

_I have a fragile ego and no concept of self worth, I need constant validation_

**Relatable  
I hate dupstep, but you’re not terrible**

_That was painful for you to say wasn’t it_

**A little, not gonna lie**

_Well Ill take it anyway :)  
u tired yet_

Keith stifled a yawn as he got the last message.

**Yeah a little**

_Im that boring huh_

**Shut up, you asked**

_ik lol  
feel free to sign off if youre ready to sleep_

**nah im goodigeudjlflllllllll**

_you feel asleep in your phone didn’t u  
lol good night dude_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rivals have met! O_o Who wants to take bets on how long it will take for them to figure out they know each other?  
> I've already started the next chapter and will hopefully have it up in the next day or so, because I have my grama's funeral next Friday that I'm helping with and I move back to school the day after, so I'm gonna be pretty busy and I want to write as much as I can beforehand.  
> Also let me know how you like the messaging format. There's a lot of different ways to do it and this is the one I prefer, but lmk if y'all have any suggestions/preferences.  
> [Reference](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Viwd2P5fJZA&index=5&t=0s&list=PL2TUYTT4Z3jVHbWp4-kQgqsPRSldx1dJh) for Lance's remix
> 
> Hope you like it so far!  
> tumblr: angstyteeninthegayscene  
> twitter/ig: wishiwaugh


	9. Pt9

Keith woke up to his cheek buzzing and a loud noise in his ear. He jolted up with a start, blinking blearily, and looked down at his pillow to see his phone laying there, alarm blaring, and put two and two together that he must have fallen asleep on his phone last night. Silencing the alarm, he stretched both arms above his head, feeling a satisfying stretch through his back, and dropped them back in his lap with a sigh.

He picked up his phone and unlocked it, squinting at the screen as his eyes adjusted to the brightness. His conversation with BlueTailor69 glowed up at him, he really needed to call him something other than BlueTailor69, it reminded him of all the stupid gamertags of the kids he played X-box live with when he was younger. Taylor, that works.

Keith scrolled to his most recent message and cringed at the stream of keyboard smashes he accidently sent after he fell asleep.

 **Sorry** , he sent quickly and crawled out of bed to get ready for school. His pants were halfway on when he heard his phone ping, and he almost fell flat on his face as he tried to simultaneously pull them up and waddle to his bed.

_For what?_

**_Keyboard smash_ **

_Oh np lol  
I think its romantic that you fell asleep talking to me  <3_

**Youre annoying**

_I know ;)_

**gtg weirdo**

Keith stuffed his phone in his pocket, grabbed his bag, and headed downstairs for breakfast. Dropping his bag by one of the barstools, he put two pans on the stove to heat up while he pulled eggs and bacon out of the fridge. Shiro walked in as he scrambled the eggs, Keith ducking away from his hand instinctually as he stepped behind him to start the coffee.

“Think you can get away from me, huh?” Shiro questioned jokingly.

“Touch my hair and I’ll spit in your eggs,” Keith spoke lowly, fighting against the smirk tugging at his lips.

“Touché,” the older man held his hands up in surrender. He took a seat at the island and watched Keith work. “You feeling better?”

“Yeah, actually,” Keith said as he plated the food and slid one to Shiro.

“Good.” They slipped into silence as they ate. After they finished, Keith cleared the plates and Shiro grabbed his car keys.

“Ready to go?” Shiro jangled his keys in emphasis.

“Yeah,” Keith replied, slinging his bag over his shoulder as he walked to the door. He paused, giving Shiro a look as he opened the door.

“What?” he questioned.

“Bag, Shiro,” the younger boy deadpanned, nodding at his empty hand. Shiro looked down and back up with an _oops_ and rushed back to his office. He walked back in to Keith leaning against the door with his arms crossed, tapping his foot, and couldn’t help but laugh at the sight.

“Geez, Keith, you’re too young to look like a parent.” Keith pushed off the door and turned to open it.

“Without me, you’d be living off cereal and microwave dinners and would probably forget your arm somewhere if it wasn’t surgically attached,” he shot back, a sly smirk on his face.

“Hey now, you’re still in my house, kiddo.” Keith shrugged dismissively at the threat, plopping into the passenger seat with a shit-eating grin. Shiro huffed, shaking his head, as he pulled out of the driveway.

Shortly, they pulled into the parking lot on campus. Before they went their separate ways, Shiro grabbed Keith by the elbow gently.

“If you need to, you can hide away in my office. I’ll leave the door unlocked, ok?” Keith nodded, smiling appreciatively, and turned to go to the music building.

***

Keith made it through his classes without incident and was on his way to meet up with Shiro at his office when he felt an arm pull his sleeve, followed by a breathless _hey_. Keith bristled at the foreign and unwarranted contact, whirling around to look at the assailant. His eyes widened slightly when he saw a newly familiar, lanky, Cuban boy looking back at him, his chest heaving, but his face still as he tried to control his breathing.

“Lance?” Keith questioned, unsure of what to expect out of this interaction.

“Keith, hi,” Lance said, smiling through his still heavy breathing, “Hunk said you’d be around here. I wanted to catch you before you left.”

“Ok?”

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry for being such a dick the other day. I was upset, but that’s not an excuse to act like I did. Pidge told me why you don’t remember me. Don’t get mad at them though, because I probably would have been too stubborn to talk to you otherwise. I’m really sorry about your parents, they were awesome and always super nice to me. I’ll miss them, and I missed you and I overreacted and was a complete asshole and I’m sorr--,” Keith cut off the rambling with his pointer finger a few inches from Lance’s face, who briefly went cross-eyed to look at the hand before focusing back on Keith’s face.

“I got it, Lance. Thank you for apologizing.”

“I was rambling, wasn’t I? Sorry.” Lance looked down bashfully, a hint of red glow spreading across his cheeks.

“You’re good, man,” Keith reassured him, more out of necessity than kindness.

“I’m sorry, it’s just weird. I know everything about you, at least I did, and you don’t even know who I am anymore and that hurts, but it’s not your fault, I know that. I just need to wrap my head around it,” Lance paused, letting out a deep sigh and scrubbing a hand down his face. His hand paused as it covered his mouth, eyes in a thousand-yard stare far behind Keith’s head. It only lasted a moment before Lance’s hand dropped and he looked at Keith with a smile that didn’t quite reach the eyes.

“Let’s try this. We’re starting over, from scratch, full factory reset. Hi, I’m Lance,” he put his hand out in front of him, gesturing for Keith to shake it when he saw the look of confusion. Keith looked at the hand for another moment, not sure what this was getting him into, but decided to take a chance.

“Hi, I’m Keith, nice to meet you,” Keith shook Lance’s hand gently, a soft smile on his face.

“Nice to meet you, Keith. We should be friends. Can I get your number? If you want, you don’t have to,” Lance quickly backpedaled, not wanted to fuck up this very freshly renewed friendship.

“I, uh, no, that’s fine,” Keith replied, pulling his phone out of his pocket and opening the contacts app for Lance to type his number in.

“Cool, just text me so I have your number,” Lance said as he handed the phone back.

“Yeah, yeah, will do,” Keith mumbled, head down to check that the number had saved properly before looking back up to Lance with a thumbs up.

“Alright, well I’ll see you around, I guess.” Keith nodded, waving a goodbye, and turned to head to Shiro’s office.

Lance could barely contain the grin that broke out on his face, silently pumping his fists and doing a little dance as Keith walked away. He had been ridiculously nervous going into this, not sure how Keith would react, but it went better than he could have hoped. He was snapped out of his revelry with a buzz in his pocket. He pulled out his phone to see the screen lit up from a notification from a number he didn’t recognize.

_hi it’s keith_

Lance quickly unlocked his phone to reply. He sent a gif of the bear in a safari park waving to the camera, because he’s an extra bitch like that.

_haha I love that video_

**ikr?! Animals are too pure for this world**

_yeah lol, half of my phone’s storage is just pics of my cat being stupid_

**YOU HAVE A CAT!!!**

_Yep my aunt and uncle got him for me_

**Can I meet him please please please ohmygod please**

_Sure?_

**Dude youre my new best friend  
shit I have a class ttyl**

_Yeah see you_

Lance stowed his phone back in his pocket and booked it to the class he was about to be late for, definitely in a better mood than he was this morning.

***

Keith was rounding the corner to Shiro’s office just as he was locking the door to leave.

“Perfect timing, Keith. I was just going to text you,” Shiro said with a smile. It fell quickly when he saw the sullen look on Keith’s face. “Hey, you ok, kid?” Keith looked up, wide-eyed as if he was broken out of a trance.

“Huh? Yeah, I’m fine, just thinking.”

“Looks like you’re thinking pretty hard over there. Need to talk about anything?” Shiro offered, not wanting to push too much.

“No, I’m—, yeah,” Keith conceded, dropping his protest as soon as it started.

“Alright, spill.”

“Remember me mentioning Lance yesterday?”

“Yeah, is he causing you trouble? Do I need to talk to someone?”

“No, Shiro, it’s fine. He actually came to apologize today and said he wanted to start over, ‘full factory reset’, he said.”

“That’s good, I guess. So, what’s the problem?” They had reached the car by this point and Shiro fumbled with his keys to unlock the doors. Keith stayed quiet until they were pulling out of the parking lot. What was the problem?

“I don’t know. I think that’s the problem, I just don’t know how to feel about all of this.”

“That’s understandable. Just take it slow, this is one of the first times you’ve really interacted with anyone from before, outside of family, so it’s probably gonna be weird. Tell him to cool his jets if he gets to be too much, just like with everyone else. Besides, it doesn’t hurt to have a new friend, right?” Shiro took his eyes off the road briefly to gauge Keith’s response. This was kind of a big deal for him, whether he recognized it or not.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Keith responded after a moment, his head bent to watch his hands fiddle with a loose seam on his pants, and sunk back into his thoughts.

Shiro knew the telltale signs of Keith dissociating, so he let the conversation drop. If Keith needed to talk more, he’d come to Shiro when he was ready. Right now, he had a lot to process and that was something he needed to do on his own for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I'm back! Here's the new chapter, I hope y'all like it despite the wait. It was just my luck that I got sick literally the day I moved back home, so it's not my best work tbh, but it's something. Drugs always make me more creative anyways, so maybe this is a blessing disguised as the common cold.  
> Also, HOLY SHIT VOLTRON SEASON 8 RUINED ME!!! You can read my thoughts on my tumblr if you care, but all I will say, is i'm not going anywhere, this story will continue, and if I get my shit together, hopefully more will follow.
> 
> Hope you like it so far!  
> tumblr: angstyteeninthegayscene  
> instagram/twitter: wishiwaugh
> 
> PS- the fact that this story has over 800 hits now is absolutely wild! Thank you all for wasting your time on my mediocre story, it means a lot <3


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